


No Strange Creature

by njckle



Series: What Is a Man Without Beasts? [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Newt's travels, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: A collection of Newt's travel's and the beasts he encounters.





	1. mermaid

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a place to put all that prompts/drabbles that I end up writing, so this fic is the answer. I'm open to prompts on my Tumblr, [njcklenjart](https://njcklenjart.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and loufok designed our own species of merpeople wayyyy back when and I finally finished the piece I wrote for it. :)

Barely above the sound of the gentle laps of the waves Newt hears a small, squeaky voice right above his head. He lifts his cap from his face, squinting past the blazing sun. The sky is clear and the wind a lazy thing, and with the sea calm and beautiful he had decided to take a quick nap. “Something wrong, Pick?”

His little friend chirps, little pinpricks against his scalp trailing to his ear directing his attention portside of their little vessel where he’s set up his lines. His rod is shaking. Curious, Newt eyes it, watching it for a short while. It bends and bends, slowly turning into more of a hoop than rod, and the boat dips with it.

Newt sits up. Now this is something interesting.

The rod snaps and Pickett squeals in fright at the sharp sound. Without another moment, Newt jumps into action, tripping and stumbling as the boat pitches, reaching the port and leaning as far as he dares. He peers down at the water, half of his fishing rod long gone, but catches sight of a splotch of the grey as it slips under the hull.

Excitement builds in his veins. He forgoes any hint of propriety, stripping himself of his jacket and boots, and depositing his frantic bowtruckle onto the pile. “Stay put, Pick.” Ignoring the furious squeaks of his friend, he throws himself overboard.

After dozing in the heat of the sun for so long, the water that engulfs him is a sweet relief. Down here the water is clear and he’s able to see as far as the light falls. He wordlessly casts an underwater breathing spell, taking in a deep breath when the bubbles of air gather at his mouth, and adds a pressure stabilizing spell for good measure. He dives after the shrinking mass directly below him.

While he can see the sea floor as if it’s touch away, it takes him more than a minute or two to actually reach it. He’s surrounded by fish, each of varying colors of silver, delicate scales that shimmer as they scatter the closer he gets to the bottom. The rocks lining the seafloor are half-buried with coral and other marine life and Newt grips to the highest cliff, searching the area for what he’d come down for in the first place.

He sees it skimming along the swaying underwater grasses. It surpasses the expectant size when he’s gone a few meters down, three times as big as an average mermaid. None of the fish pay it any mind, merely parting to let it pass as it slowly goes about its business, searching through the coral. Not a major predator then. He assumes it’s female with the jutted shape of it’s chest and the tail fin shape that match merrows he’s come across.

He swims closer and when he’s half a dozen meters away he can easily see the mottled patterns on her skin. From where he watches, Newt sees her searching from something in particular, running her hands through the grass and picking up starfish and shells and the like, dropping each one for the next. Newt wonders on the reason.

He tries to remember as much detail about her as he can, and wishes he could observe creatures underwater just as long as he does to those on land. That’s why he remains where he is even as she makes her way closer to him, scouring the seafloor in an almost obsessive manner, and doesn’t try to swim back to the surface when she’s practically below him, an arms length of water between his seat on the rock and the tip of her dorsal fin.

So he’s more than surprised when she stops at his perch. Before he can lean over further, the water around him shifts, nearly shoving him out into the open waters, his vision blinded by the sudden flurry of fish swimming every which way. He’s been spotted and the sight of large hands breaking through the school of fish and looming ever closer and with the intent of capturing would startle anyone, Newt included. He jerks back and decides to make his leave before this turns for the worst. He Disapperates then and there. 

Pickett shrieks when he falls back in the boat and brings half the sea with him, and chastises him, slapping at Newt’s feet with his spindly fingers. Newt ignores the tantrum, wiping back his hair and taking a deep breath of the crisp air. He dries his hands with his coat before digging into his sack for his notes, nearly dropping it into the sea in his rush. “You should have seen her, Pick—”

He nearly falls forward when the boat lurches. He grips the sides of his little vessel when it rocks again, his notes forgotten in favor of remaining topside. Pickett’s frantic now, his high-pitched voice screaming, and not even Newt placing him on his head can calm him down.

A look in the water and he realizes he’s been followed.

“Come to get another look, have you?” He laughs, twisting to keep the mermaid in view as she swims around the bow. “You’re a long way from the open sea. I must be some exotic discovery to you as you are to me.”

He watches, fascinated, as its long fingers slide along the underside of the boat. This close to the surface, he can clearly see the texture of her skin, the extra joint in each fingers as they curl at the lip of the boat’s side. He sees her eyes, the blankness that’s common in the blind, and understands what’s happening. Just a curious fellow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know English, would you?”

She tilts her her above at him, the rippling water a sort of window between them, the scattering sunlight on her skin like sequins. Her mouth moves slowly and her gills flare up. Bubbles rise to the surface and Newt’s splashed as they pop, but he only catches a mangled sound.

“Just as well,” he tells her. “My mermish isn’t what it should be. I met a colony of your kind in the Pacific and, after they tried to eat me, they had the gall to laugh at my accent.”

The topside of her tail turns a rustic brown out in the open air and sunlight, the texture of the skin even more fascinating to Newt, almost like the exoskeleton of a crustacean. He sees similarities too and is tempted to reach out and touch; with how the merperson curls her abdomen around the boat, what with the sheer size and the thick plating covering every inch of her, Newt could very well could do just that and not be felt; still, he wills himself to show some respect.

An idea comes to him suddenly, his mind thinking back to the image of the marine beast foraging through the grass. He quickly rummages through his case, warding off the pixies when they try to escape, and crows in success when he finds exactly what he’s looking for. The piece of amber shines orange in the light.

It’s nothing she’ll have seen before, not in the wide expanse of the ocean. Newt tosses it in the water and laughs at the startled jerk the mermaid does. The stone’s dwarfed by her large, spindly hands, but she touches it gently. Bubbles burst to the water and the waves jump up as she rolls in excitement once she’s felt it entirely, realizing what treasure she’s come across.

Newt smiles. While blind she must have an incredible and mysterious way of viewing the world because he’s mirrored and the resulting show of teeth would frighten anyone else. “You can keep it. Got a few already.”

She becomes fixated on the stone and it gives Newt more chance to observe her actions and motions. He learns that while blind, she’s more than capable of figuring out her surroundings, using touch to examine her surroundings. Newt wonders if her sense of smell is as good as a shark’s, or if sonar’s an option like a whale; he won’t know unless he extensively researches her activities or asks her personally (and there lies the problem). He ends up writing all his questions and observations, manages to sketch her face and strange hair before she suddenly slips to the other side of the boat.

Newt makes a frustrated sound at his half-finished drawing. “Bollocks!”

He yelps when a hand bursts out of the water, but it doesn’t do more than float closer to the boat and uncurl it’s fingers to show what it holds. After a moment, Newt plucks the offering from her palm. It’s heavier than he expects, rough on top with a smooth underside. He turns it over and is greeted with a shine of blue and lavender and silver, shining lovely in the sunlight.

“Thank you,” he says, uncaring that he won’t be understood. It’s not often he gets a peaceful first impression, nor a gift. 

The mermaid finally resurfaces, half her face out of the water. Her eyes crinkle with her smile, this one big enough that her fins spread wide around her face, and bubbles gather by her nose, and only then does she slip away from the boat, letting her body weight sink her slowly. Knowing that the moment is coming to a close, Newt watches her go until her shape melds with the rest of the sea and he’s left with the gentle sounds of waves and an easy breeze, the sun baking his back and neck.

Newt falls back against his pack, laughing to himself. There’s a puddle at his feet and his notes are soaked, but he doesn’t care. He holds his new trinket up to the sunlight, the colors changing to red, orange, and a dash of green in between before his very eyes. “Fascinating.”


	2. hippogriff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this snippet on my Tumblr, but never put it on here. Whoops.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Tina asks for the fifth time.

“Completely safe,” Newt says, cupping his hands and helping her onto the back of the hippogriff. “Now, hold on tight, but not too tight—and don’t pull out any of his feathers. She might throw you off mid flight if you do.” He grabs her hand when she nearly slips off. “Careful.”

He’d chosen Alora because of her mellow temperament, the perfect hippogriff to make a the best impression of her species. She spreads her wings at his insistence, running his hands through her feathers in a last minute check up, while watching Tina awkwardly place her hands at the base of Alora’s neck in his peripheral.

“You look like you were born riding a hippogriff.”

“Liar.”

Newt grins. “Having second thoughts?”

“No—yes. A little.” She jerks back when Alora shakes her head and Newt has to struggle not to laugh. A New Yorker, born and bred, riding a hippogriff in the English countryside.

“You’ll be fine.” He takes a step back.

Tina notices. “Aren’t you coming too?” A hint of panic begins to creep in her voice.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. Someone has to stay with the rest of the herd.” He waves to the field behind him. The rest of the hippogriffs linger about leisurely, the warm weather a far cry than the usual rain that it renders them complete docile.

“That’s not what I agreed to.” She attempts to slip off, only Alora is beginning to get antsy. The hippogriff stamps eagerly, underneath her chestnut coat a thousand pounds of muscle ready to get in the sky. Tina looks almost anxious. “Newt.  _ Newt _ . Don’t you dare—”

“Try not to worry the entire time you’re up there—it’ll ruin the experience.” Without further ado, Newt slaps the beast’s hide. She rears, spreading her wings wide, and lets out a loud cry that nearly drowns out Tina’s cursing.


End file.
